Where the line lies
by Mariyekos
Summary: Hector's thoughts as Carmilla drags him through Braila, about his choice to listen to her advice, the culling of humanity, and his own mistakes and actions. Takes place where season 2 of the Netflix show ended.


**Author's Note: I finished season 2 of Netflix Castlevania last night, and was just filled with the urge to write something. I've played Curse of Darkness and really enjoyed him in that, so seeing what happened to him in the show made me feel bad and want to direct my motivation toward him. Who knows what might happen in season 3 to contradict any of this. Hopefully nothing, but for now here are my thoughts on what might have gone through Hector's head after Carmilla captured him in Braila.**

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 _No…_

Each step he made, each stumble he could barely stand through, each breath he took in trying to ease the pain in his side, the word echoed in his head.

 _No. No, no no… no please, please don't make me do this…!_

His pleas would do him no good if he were to say them aloud. Carmilla wouldn't listen to him. She wasn't going to let him go just because he asked. She probably wouldn't let him go no matter what he did. He would be serving her until either she had died, or he did. Or until he escaped, but he had a feeling he would be kept under close watch while in her...possession? He was no regular soldier, and he wasn't sure if it would be accurate to call himself a part of her army. He wouldn't have the freedoms to be called that. He was just a living weapons factory.

Another step forward, another jerk at his collar as Carmilla sped her horse up just long enough to make the chain attached to it go taut, tripping him and almost making him land on her horse's backside. She was enjoying this humanity. Immensely. Was it something he had done to her, or was it simply an aspect of her personality that brought her joy by making anyone suffer, regardless of how that person had treated her?

God, where did things go so wrong?

Serving Dracula was something he had decided to do on his own. Yes, the vampire had come to Hector with a request, but Hector had accepted freely. He had joined Dracula's army and willingly served, working to aid the man the best he could while trying to stop the needlessly cruel deaths the man was allowing during his cull. Not everything was as Hector wished it to be. There was so much more chaos in Dracula's forces than he had expected, and the frustration from being looked at like food and not a knowledgeable and capable general as Dracula had named him to be was heavy.

But he had done his job as he was supposed to, and his time in Dracula's service was pleasant enough. Compared to this it most certainly was. He had listened to Dracula's orders, and did his best to improve them, looking for ways to stop the arguments and chaos and mindlessness that had dominated the main hall during war meetings. Because humans had to die, but he had never wanted them to be killed in such a disorganized and cruel manner.

Or at least, so he had thought. After witnessing the events in Braila… Those people were innocent. They weren't free of sin, as no man was, but the terror inflicted upon them was undeserved. The looks he received from the survivors as he and Carmilla worked their way through the town tore at his heart in a way no man's action had affected him for years. He wouldn't go so far as to say those looks had convinced him that all of humanity deserved to live, but… in culling, there were some that had to remain, right? To maintain order in the world. And even in the cull, there was no need to scare the animals before they died. Quick and painless was the best way. They would die in the end regardless, so why not spare them final suffering?

With Dracula, the man didn't seem to care either way. As long as the humans were dead in the end, it didn't matter to him if the people went out screaming, or if they went out not knowing anything had even come for them. Carmilla was different. Just based on the way she had been throwing him around, she enjoyed that suffering. Based on the smile she wore - or whatever you would call that deranged sort of grin on her face - as she rode through town, looking over the wreckage and watching terrified women slam their shutters closed as she approached, her preferred cull was not a peaceful one. It was not one where people died quickly and quietly. She was planning her own war, after all. One he found himself dragged into…

That was really his mistake. Listening to her. Agreeing with her. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he could see how wrong he was.

When she had explained her plan to go to Braila, he thought it was for the best. It would unify the war council, her logic seemed sound, and it would mean they were finally making progress in the war. It would appease the other top vampires, which he thought would end the senseless and needlessly violent killing sprees they had gone on when they grew tired of Dracula's inactivity.

But of course things couldn't be that simple. He was dealing with genocide aimed at the human race. There was no way it could be a clean thing. He just hadn't expected the line of power to change so quickly.

His loyalty was with Dracula, not Carmilla. But if the female vampire was to believe, his lord was dead. There was no loyalty to be given to a dead man. He could hold Dracula's memory in his heart and think of the vampire as someone deserving of respect. But he would gain no protection from loyalty to the dead. To the disappeared. However you wanted to classify vampires, living, dead, or undead, Dracula was gone and Carmilla wasn't. If Dracula was dead, then all of his other troops had to be as well. Isaac was even more loyal than Hector was, so there was no hoping for his fellow human to come to his rescue, as he of all people had surely perished along with his master. Hector was at Carmilla's feet to stay and serve until she grew tired of him. Only death would free him.

So, he continued to curse in his head as he tried to match the pace of Carmilla's horse. A vampire's senses were stronger than a human's, and he had no doubt Carmilla would hear him if he dared say anything aloud, even if it was only a whisper.

Not that he had enough breath to waste whispering curses anyway.

His vision was spotty, and the world was swaying more than his unsteady gait accounted for. In his getting punched and kicked in the head, he probably sustained damage that went past cuts and bruises to the face. As it was he was barely concentrating on following the horse. If he looked to the side he would surely fall. His head was pounding enough that had Hector not been able to see Carmilla in front of him, he'd think she was still smashing him with blow after blow.

 _Please, let me be released from this hell soon. I can't work for her. I can't continue to do this. She won't be merciful. She won't give them swift deaths. Humanity is not my friend, but I don't want to help anyone in making them suffer. Not anymore. Not after this. Not in_ her _name, at the very least. She's no Dracula. She's just a lying, manipulative wench who thirsts for power._

The pounding in his head intensified so much he saw white for a split second, and before Hector realized he was falling, he felt his face lying in the mud, as he was choked by the collar which was still attached to the horse as it walked forward.

The horse stopped a few seconds later.

The pounding did not.

"Ah, I thought I felt my steed slow down," Carmilla commented, her voice dripping in that falsely-concerned voice she'd use when she wanted to mock him. "Now now, you don't look so good little puppy. Can it be that you're tired from walking? We haven't even made it all the way out of town yet!" She gestured somewhere forward that Hector could not see from his position in the ground; mud, debris, and horse legs blocking his view. "Look, there are still a few houses to go. They're remarkably good looking homes as well. Why, if I hadn't seen the castle have its ridiculous seizure, then I would've said nothing out of the ordinary had gone on here based on these few little huts. Don't you agree?"

Hector stayed silent, eyes trying to reach Carmilla but failing. He would have to lift his head for that. He would have to get up. But could he do that in his state?

A sudden tug at the chain made the decision for him. His neck pulled several feet off the ground and the collar pulled high enough to choke him, Hector forced his knees to stiffen and thighs to straighten so he could catch his breath.

"You _will_ speak when you are spoken to, human. Dracula may have been lenient because he was an old, starving man, but I am not. Now answer."

The severity of her Carmilla's voice made a sick feeling grow in Hector's stomach. He raised a hand to his face to wipe away some of the mud, before giving his response. "I apologize. I was slightly...dazed. But I agree. It looks...fairly peaceful here. There are no people about though, and no lights on in the houses, so it couldn't quite be a normal day. But I suppose it's close enough."

Would that satisfy her? For the moment, at least?

"Hmph." Carmilla ran a hand through her hair. "You say you agree, and then you voice your items of disagreement. You humans are so contradictory. Say what you mean, not what you imagine will please me. Although, I don't think I would have a very nice time listening to you if your honest words were all slander against me. So if you need to lie, then have a better execution. Stick to one story, and one sensible line of thought, will you?. It makes you look so much better. Smarter, almost."

With that, she directed her horse to move forward, the chain connecting it to Hector going taut again and forcing him to his feet.

The sun was coming up soon, wasn't it? It had to be, they had been walking for so long.

But then again, that was probably just an effect of his muddled mind. They were still in Braila, and they had started walking at night, so there was no way the sun could be about to rise if they were still in town. How much longer would he have to walk for, then? Would they stop at daybreak? Would they stop once they reached a specific destination? Would they simply stop whenever Carmilla felt like it, whether that be at a landmark, time, or whim?

Hector wasn't privy to that sort of information. So he kept walking, full of shame and anger and frustration and despair.

It was no pleasant situation he found himself in. But who could he blame, other than himself?

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 **Author's Note: Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it. I'm thinking of adding on and continuing this story, but if I do I'll likely make it part of a series, rather than adding chapters on to this. Until next time.**


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